If 10,000 hours of experience makes us an expert, I might be an expert in moving. If challenge makes us grow, then I’m in the midst of some excellent growth today.
In early ’21 Nashville popped up in our imagination – for the umpteenth time in the last decade. The name, the city, the idea of living in Nashville kept poking at my heart and mind. I’d been in the non-profit/faith-based media and entertainment space for a few years and yes, Nashville seemed obvious in that context. But I wasn’t sure I was actually fitting in with that crowd, so what was this nagging thing? Jack’s a musician – yes, that seems good. Steve’s work is mobile and he’s always up for a move. My work life in 2020 was a bunch of hustling and investing and consulting and I was hungry for a new chapter that would bear more fruit.
Then, quick as a wink, I met a wonderful agency founder/CEO who invited me to come help him grow the business in Nashville. This felt right and excellent. We said yes, Riley said “I’ll go!” Steve’s boss said “It’s all good! We know how to work remote. Go!” And poof. We’re on our way. We bought a sweet house on 5 acres which we knew most things about. We set a course and plowed forward. It felt like plowing with good traction (is that a thing?).
We felt the lift of prayers from encouraging friends. These are good friends, remarkable people, rich associations. These are forever people. Wait, we’re leaving?
I spontaneously cried almost daily at the thought of leaving my older kids. Who does that? No worries, they’ll come soon. Then suddenly we left. I boarded a plane, like any other trip, except this was a one-way ticket.
Riley beat me to Mt. Juliet by a few hours and we camped in our adorable empty new house until the men and Charlie were scheduled to arrive a week later in the RV (aka “Betsy”). Their road trip was to be its own adventure; stopping by Cody Wyoming like ya do to see family and pick up a gator (for the acreage y’all).
The trip in Betsy looked to me like those little black dashes the old Bugs Bunny animators used to mark a trek across the country. Two dimensional and heading toward me. But in the middle of one of those dashes, Steve’s father had an AAA rupture. The abdominal aortic aneurysm his doctor had been watching. It finally gave way. I’d just spoken to him the night before, chatting about this adventure in Tennessee. Ray knows adventure.
This is shredding time. (You know, that thing about how muscles need to shred to expand and grow…yea that.)
As if it wasn’t already enough; enough of a challenging, wild, mostly thrilling, really hard time. Now Steve’s right foot grew heavier. He needed to continue to follow those dashes to deliver Jack and Charlie to me, then get to Tucson in what felt like impossible time. Dear Lord please wait. We know Ray deserves heaven more than most, but please wait.
Steve dropped his cargo in our driveway in pouring rain and he was here for 22 hours before flying out. Since then, it’s been 26 days since Riley and I arrived and Steve’s been here for only 10 of those days. It seems impossible. In the midst of this huge, life-changing cross-country move to be without him, and longing to be in Tucson myself. And to be enjoying a great new position with amazing people and yet feel more than slightly off kilter. Shoring up focus and discipline to settle in here. Enjoy the place, celebrate the miracles, and answer every call from Steve with held breath.
Under normal circumstances, moving isn’t easy. Moving upsets our comfort zones. It shakes up our orientation. The physical work is ridiculous! Riley and Jack are champions and with them at my side, we’re strong and laughing a lot. Jack is facing the pain of distance with bravery, and belief in the fun adventure ahead. But bravery doesn’t lessen the pain. He’s brilliantly positive and he’s hurting. He’s learning that struggle can inspire great song writing. Riley is a fun, breath of joy and strength. I can’t imagine what this would all be like without her jumping into the fray. She has a new job at Vanderbilt’s ER – it’s own level of nuttiness – yet she is brimming with stability. She totally dialed the pantry with beautiful organization and she watches Outer Banks with Jack.
We each take turns grieving and missing and needing to lean. We lean together on God and we trust in the adventure. Shredding is growing. I look forward and can see just far enough to know this is good. As a recovered control freak, I appreciate reminders that I can do all this only with God’s supernatural strength. And I have this beautifully peaceful front porch to sit amidst the bird songs of our new acreage.
Ray is on the ICU roller coaster and still fighting. We’re all hovering in a state of fragile and we’re being extra kind to each other. There isn’t time to crumble. We are grateful for you.
